


Conjugal Visit

by markipwiwer



Category: Video Blogging RPF, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: A heist with Markiplier - Freeform, Alcohol, M/M, Prison, Stripping, Teasing, blowjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 12:02:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21253079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/markipwiwer/pseuds/markipwiwer
Summary: Yancy likes prison life. He doesn’t want to be a free man. Wilford likes his freedom, but he gives his old pal a visit anyway.





	Conjugal Visit

**Author's Note:**

> please forgive any spelling errors, my phone screen is very shattered right now and I need glasses so like I can’t see very well lmao

“Warfy, babes! How’s things?”

Yancy let himself be picked up, arms closing around Wilford as he was twirled around.

“There’s my dancey pants! Sorry I couldn’t get in sooner, Kat has been on my arse something fierce, and not in the way I’d like!”

Yancy chuckled as he was put down, always enjoying hearing what kinds of shenanigans Wilford got up to as a free man. The Warden waved them through from the meeting room to the next area, a cozy little place, even more cushy than the usual cells.

By this point, Wilford and Yancy knew it well. Every third Sunday, or as often as the Warden would allow, this was their romantic little retreat. Wilford would conjure a bottle of champagne and whatever other little goodies Yancy had been craving from the outside, and then...

Well.

As soon as the door was locked begin them, Yancy was pulling Wilford down by the suspenders for a kiss. The almost foot of a height difference between them made things difficult occasionally, but Yancy was an adaptable son of a bitch.

Wilford hummed against Yancys’ dry lips, not about to slow things down if that’s how his partner wanted to take things.

Yancy was truly the only man that could keep up with Wilfords insane schemes back in the day. Dark always wanted to stick to some mundane plan, but Yancy was flexible. In more ways than one.

Oh Christ, just thinking about it was sparking something in Wilford, and he pulled away from the deep kiss Yancy had trapped him in.

“Whuh- what’s the matter?”

Yancy immediately knew by the look on Wilfords face that there wasn’t anything wrong, per say. Just that he had an idea.

Wilford stood y’all and straightened his slightly askew bow tie.

“I just miss seeing you properly. How about putting on a little show for ol’ Warfstache?”

Any other being might have blushed, but Yancy just cackled.

“Aw, you big sleeze! ‘Course I will, but yous’d better fuck my brains out for it!”

Honestly, it was Yancys’ blunt nature that made Wilford blush sometimes, though he’d be loathed to admit it.

Yancy took a few steps back, making himself aware of his space. A lounge across from a freshly-made but bland looking bed, and a small kitchenette with a bathroom to the side. Like a tiny apartment just for fucking. In the middle of a jail. Quite romantic.

Yancy stood in front of the bed and toe’d off his shoes and socks. He didn’t slide out of his pants just yet, simply undoing the top button and letting them hang low on his hips. Before he could even begin to teasingly lift his shirt, Wilford had held up a finger in pause to conjure and old looking record player, some cheesy 20s ballad playing already. Then, Wilford had a glass of champagne in his hand, and he was ready to keep watching.

Yancy couldn’t help roll his eyes, but continued on anyway. His V line was easy to get distracted by, and he caught Wilford ogling.

“Hey, sleeze bag. Up here!”

The ripping sound of Yancys shirt certainly brought Wilfords attention back up, and of course he was tearing it apart just to show off. Well, Wilford did ask for a show.

Something tumbled out of the sleeve of Yancys shirt as it fell into two or three distinct piece, and Wilford just about coo’d.

“Yance... is that the deck of magic cards I gave you?”

Well, that got Yancy blushing.

“Aw, shucks, well, y’know... just somethin’ to remember yous by, o’course!”

Well dang. Wilfords heart skipped a beat, which made his dick do a thing, and he was suddenly above Yancy in about three strides, so ready to devour him in love and attention.

“Oh, my dear, that is so...”

Yancys shirt was on the ground in tatters.

“...goddamn...”

His pants didn’t even get to stay in this dimension, they simply vanished.

“...sweet!”

Wilford didn’t need to exert much strength to push Yancy flat onto the bed, and Yancys prison boxers wouldn’t have been too flattering if Yancy was any smaller. He wasn’t endowed like Wilford by any means, but it wasn’t shameful either.

Yancy was half-hard and growing, beginning to stretch the fabric a little bit, and by gosh Wilford was going to enjoy his show. Neither one of them was sure where Yancys boxers went but the point was they weren’t on Yancy anymore and that was all that mattered.

In fact, that was the last comprehensive thought that went through Yancys brain before Wilford had his mouth around Yancys cock, just like that. And Christ, Yancy had been saving up for this, hadn’t been jerking off for two whole weeks, and that was a lot of wet warmth and suction very, very suddenly. It was so sudden Yancy almost flinched forward, but wise old Wilford knew better, and held him down by the hips. His grip was firm at first, but it quickly gave way to a more loving, soothing, craving touch.

Wilford was a damn magician with his mouth, and even though Yancy didn’t have quite enough length to gag Wilford, the pink mans tongue was doing a real bang up job anyway. Swirling around the head, pressured licks to the shaft, and all the intermittent suction changes a man could want.

Christ, Yancy really hoped he could keep his mouth shut through this, he had a tendency to say some dumb shit when he was getting close, and oh God, Wilford had his tongue on Yancys balls with his length still in his mouth and - 

“I - Oh God, Wil, I - I been thinkin’ bouts gettin’ our -“

It was chocked up but legible, and Wilford stopped, the rat fucking bastard, making a questioning sound. Yancy immediately gritted is teeth, trying to shake that sentence out of his brain before just gripping Wilfords hair and pushing him back down.

That, it seemed, made Wilford gag a little, but boy howdy if that man didn’t love a desperate face fuck, and so he took it, he took all of Yancys strength, his balls coming up and hitting his chin as Yancy pistoned in and out a few more times before the pain in Wilfords hair roots was, y’know, pain, and wow Yancy did make some delightful sounds when he came.

Wilford was so enraptured by his face and his lovely whimpers that he almost forgot to swallow, before his body decided that it needed oxygen and he pulled back just enough to let Yancy get the message of his own accord.

Yancy let go of Wilfords hair, still panting, and a dribble of cum left on his thigh. Wilford climbed up to be beside him, still fully clothed but very obviously hard, and Yancy could do little but stare and blink and nod his head in always-admiring approval.

“So, you’re thinking of getting out?”

Yancys eyes were hazy, but they were comprehending, and Yancy tried to raise a hand to push Wilford playfully, like he’d said something ridiculous.”

“C’man babes, you knows I can’t leave my boys behind... they needs me!”

Wilford looked, studying for just a moment, and Yancy tried to feign his tough guy demeanour.

“Suit yourself. Champagne?”

“What, you not gonna fuck my brains out like yous promised?”

Wilford smiled, a hint of a memory hitting him, somewhere, when they are together. Not in the past, but in the future. Maybe it’s not his time, but... just maybe.

“Good to know why I’m really here, dancey pants.”

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t usually beg for feedback but between completely a new character and not having written in a long ass while I’d really like to know what y’all think of this, between Yancys speech style and his characterisation and their chemistry and blah blah blah


End file.
